Below the Surface
by Kristen999
Summary: Sometimes people and things are not so obvious. CSI Flashfic Challenge. Prompt Phobias


Title: "Below the Surface"

By: Kristen999

Spoilers: Set Season 6. No spoilers to any specific episode.

Summary: Sometimes people and things are not so obvious. CSI Flashfic Challenge. Prompt- Phobias

A/N: Still trying to use these to keep the juices flowing and approach things a bit more creatively within the recommended word limit.

* * *

Conrad Ecklie liked order. Give him single answers, neatly balanced budgets, Yes Men all around him, and his world would be nearly perfect. Paperwork filed correctly, accountability a mantra, and the highest crime solving rate in the country and he might actually smile from time to time.

Personality conflicts, unanswered questions, and empathy, well that screwed up his perfectly aligned universe. Punishments, reprimands, responsibility: three traits of any command. He regaled in the pillars of authority.

Except sometimes...sometimes it really sucked to be him.

The man sitting across his great oak desk had not given him any eye contact. Normally that'd bug the Hell out of him. Fuel his enjoyment for laying down the law, accepting fate. For once, he didn't mind that absence.

He tapped his finger in annoyance at the whole given situation. Sure enough, shadows passed back and forth behind his shut door. The Army of Grissom, eavesdropping, waiting to see if Emperor Ecklie had chopped off the guy's head off yet, waiting to hear blood curdling screams. Most of the time he savored those images and perceptions.

It wasn't like that all the time.

He fingered the slip of paper. $1200. Nothing to sneeze over. A ripple. Or a sign of an impending tidal wave.

"Was it because you were in a bank vault?"

Nick's head snapped up. Brow furrowed, of what he could see of it under his bangs.

"No," said way too quickly.

The younger criminalist didn't squirm, or fiddle with his hands. He sat rigid like a statue, almost defiant. Not in a misconduct sort of way. Hell not like Sidle at all. No, this was a walking example of defensiveness.

"You were locked in there for several hours." Conrad said, in an almost off-handed way.

Nick laughed, ducking his head. This must have fooled a lot of others, but he wasn't part of the Graveyard Ostrich Squad.

He let his leather chair squeak as he leaned back, casually. He shrugged. "Four hours can be an awfully long time."

Dark brown liquid eyes froze dangerously to sheets of ice. "No, it's not."

Conrad stopped rocking his seat. "Of course."

He'd rather have screaming then the deadly silence. Or crying. Crying was much better, since he normally was the one to cause it.

Conrad cleared his throat. "Cell phone signal didn't work, so not knowing that people were working on the timer..." He trailed off, waiting for the man to take the offered bait.

Stokes was smirking and not in a humorous way.

"Catherine was right outside, she 'knew' where I was," he drawled.

Now he was just annoyed. Reports were required, statements, action, a freaking reason. Conrad brought his elbows to rest in front of him. He wouldn't be made into a jackass.

"It was dark, right? No need for lights, when the vault door was sealed." He was being snide, but it didn't matter.

"Yeah." Nick's response was lifeless, a heavy whisper. "I sleep with blackout shades, though a bed would have been nice," he quipped.

The humor was like acid. Stokes wasn't just trading barbs with one of his buddy-buddies.

"You had plenty of air." Now he was challenging him, almost taunting. It was in his nature, of course.

Now the criminalist was laughing. At him. In 'his' domain. Stokes was chuckling, wiping at his face.

Nick's chin rested along the inside of his hand, the icy eyes more like pools of a deep ocean with the man sinking within them.

"There was an air vent. Several. They're needed to keep the inside at a perfect 68 degrees." The CSI's explanation was muffled by his jaw still nestled along his cupped palm.

Conrad Ecklie had far enough. This was a mockery. He slammed his hand down. "I didn't see a green glow from any light source or even a damn gnat."

Nick's jaw was so tight he could hear the gnashing of teeth.

"Why did the Hell did you destroy that camera? Not only ripped the damn thing out, but smashed into a million pieces? What the little red light bother you? The bank president wants your head on a platter for destruction of property."

Conrad imagined the lab staff frozen in their tracks, his voice loud enough to be heard several doors down.

Good.

The end's of Nick's mouth twisted but didn't reply.

"For Christ's sake, I'm not Grissom. Don't mistake me for some holier than thou idol, that you have to impress."

The other man stared at some empty spot on his wall.

"I don't really care." The Assistant Director played with one of his expensive pens, the  
ones encased in gold and that wrote smooth as silk. He looked away and simply tossed it onto his desk, watching it roll a few inches. Not making eye contact he amended his sentence. "I'm not your confessor. I'm your boss."

Nick looked way, backpedaling or flailing for some excuse no doubt. Then he exhaled and glared at him. His voice was rough like sandpaper, nearly venomous. "I'm tired of being watched from the other side of a camera lens."

Nick folded his arms across his chest, signaling an end. Waiting for the suspension, or worse. Conrad fingered the angrily written complaint, scanned the dollar signs. Compared to the million he had been willing to spend, this was peanuts.

The AD rifled through a few forms, scribbled his name, the date, and shoved it across the expanse of his desk.

"Meet with your counselor and abide by his recommendations."

Nick looked startled, picking up the slip, reading it to make sure it wasn't some trick. He gaped at him for a moment and stood to await any further comments.

Conrad couldn't help but snort. "I'm not here to lecture, or judge. Obviously phobias are not at the root of this."

Nick Stokes nibbled at his lips, that old shy side peeking slightly through whomever the man in his office was at the moment. He mumbled a thanks and walked hesitantly towards the door.

"By the way..."

Nick whirled around, thinking _this is the other shoe_.

"Good work on the case." Conrad Ecklie smiled. "Try not to smash anything else for a while."

Something akin to puzzlement and surprise flashed across the young CSI's features. After Nick left his office, Conrad basked in the idea that he could still keep Grissom's people on their toes.

Fini-

* * *

I'll begin posting "Paradox" in about two weeks. Take care. 


End file.
